


breadwinner

by RyeFo



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Baking, Bisexual Amber (Andi Mack), Cussing, Everyone Is Gay, Gen, M/M, Queer T.J, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyeFo/pseuds/RyeFo
Summary: T.J Kippen is many things. So, so many things. Obsessive when it comes to not screwing up attending Cyrus' grandmother's Shiva is one of them.Thank the stars his sister can slap some common sense into his disaster-bisexual head.





	breadwinner

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Sue me, I’m 22 years old and in love with a Disney show. However, I recognise this is a show outside my age bracket, so take this as a little contribution for all you kids discovering your identities rather than an adult trying to intrude on your love for a show. :)
> 
> Side note; I’m not Jewish. A lot of this is coming from the perspective of someone who is using sources like Wikipedia and their sources for information, as I personally do not know any Jewish people and I have a hard time approaching people I don’t know for advice due to GAD. This isn’t a direct representation of Jewish culture, however if I have mis-represented anything, feel free to comment as such, and I will happily correct it.

By the time T.J had _accidentally_ taken a swig of the nearby vase of flowers instead of his coffee, he could _maybe_ admit that he was bordering on obsession. That along with the burning feeling on his retinas as he stared at his computer screen, fourteen tabs open and a notebook by his side.

He blinked slowly, the words beginning to mix with numbers as his hand became the most _comfortable_ pillow he’d ever lain on—

Snapping bolt-upright, T.J slapped his cheeks. “ _Focus,_ dammit.”

“Didn’t realise that was your new name, Teej.”

He already dreaded the voice coming from his doorway and resisted a groan. “What do you want, Amber?” He said, turning around and hanging his arm over his computer chair.

“Your light’s been seeping into my room for three hours.” She folded her arms and leaned on the door frame, shrugging. “Think I’m owed an explanation.”

“Wear an eye mask then. I’m busy.” He bit back, eyes already starting to feel heavy again.

“T.J, it’s _three_ in the morning.” He could hear Amber padding on over to his side and T.J saw her rubbing her eyes. “What’re you even looking at this late? And—” She gawked. “Why the hell do you have _that_ many tabs open? Are you on another fic binge?”

“…Not this time.” He mumbled, pinching his arm. “Research.”

“Maths bothering you that much?”

Averting his eyes, T.J begged his _stupid_ brain to come up with _some_ excuse. “Not—not exactly—”

“ _Sitting in Shiva customs, Judaism practises,_ ” T.J felt his cheeks grow hot when she began to list off the titles of the tabs, ignoring as she leaned closer to his computer screen. _“Appropriate things to say to Jewish people—_ T.J, all these tabs are about Judaism?”

Her eyebrow hooked. “Since when are you so interested in religion? I thought it didn’t gel well considering, y’know…” She made hand-gestures resembling weighted scales.

“Doesn’t mean I want to be _ignorant._ ” He shook his head. “Why am I even talking about this with you? Get out of my room.”

“Hoh boy, you’re sleep deprived. Teej, if you’re struggling, I _am_ here—”

“How about you’re not here at all?”

Amber dead-panned. “I’m not _Cyrus,_ that won’t work on…”

She trailed off when T.J openly flinched at the name, and the silence that followed momentarily was enough to make his entire face feel hot.

“…Wait. _Cyrus._ Isn’t he Jewish?”

“What _of_ it?” T.J snapped through his hands, before drumming his hand on the desk. “Don’t you have a shift tomorrow? Why are you bothering me—”

Amber stuck her hand on his shoulder and _forcefully_ swivelled his chair to look at her. “T.J, get your head out of your ass for a second.”

He blinked in surprise at his older sister, and she frowned at him. “I’m not going to make _fun_ of you, but you’d better stop treating me like I’m shit on the bottom of your shoe for being concerned.”

With his shoulders tensed, T.J took a moment to deliberate… before they went lax, and he sunk into the chair. “…Sorry.” He massaged his temples. “Tired.”

“I gathered.” Amber let go of his shoulder, pulling up the spare plastic chair he always reserved for when Cyrus came over. “Want to start over?”

With a nod, he clicked on the main article again to show her. “Cyrus called. Not long ago. About, uh…” He looked at his notes. “His _Bubbe?_ Grandma?” T.J shook his head. “Terms are a bit confusing. Anyway, it’s some… mourning thing called Shiva? Because she passed away.”

Amber nodded, looking over the information he’d scribbled down from his notes. Her lack of verbal response gave him incentive to continue.

“Anyway, uh, he… basically asked me to go? Tomorrow?” Amber’s head snapped up and she looked at him with wide eyes. “I said I’d try, but I don’t know the first _thing_ about Jewish funeral… mourning… services, and—”

“And you worked yourself up into a frenzy trying to research fast enough so you don’t offend him?”

He laid his head on the desk, almost _smacking_ it onto the wood. “His entire _family_ is going to be there, Amber. If I mess up, who knows—no, wait—” He groaned further. “ _Buffy_ is going to be there. If I screw up _once,_ you know what she’ll do.”

“Eat you alive?”

“Worse. _Lecture_ me.”

“Oh, woe is you.” Amber laughed as she patted his shoulder, before nudging him. “Hey, you’re overthinking this. Nobody’s expecting a _goyim’s_ dutiful insight on Jewish mourning practises. Cyrus just wants his friend there.”

T.J hesitated. “If I screw up—”

“Then it’s a good lesson for next time. We’re not exactly crystal clear in track-records of being sensitive, bro.”

Buffy’s name instantly came to his mind, and a wince followed. “Yeah. I know.”

“Let’s clean this up. Your computer literally sounds ready for death.” Amber began to close some of the tabs, scrolling briefly to see if there was any information to be gleaned.

T.J chose to keep his head down, feeling a strange sense of emptiness as he listened to the rhythmic clicking and scroller of the old mouse (they didn’t make tech like old computers anymore, and there was something eerily vintage about cleaning the ball out of the mouse these days).

“Hey,” Amber nudged him with her elbow, and T.J’s eyes flickered open. “Here’s something.”

T.J looked at the page in question, and the title caught his eye immediately: _Commonly asked questions about Shiva Gift Giving._

“It’s kind of like a community thing, right? This gives ideas on what you can give to it.” Amber scrolled down. “This giving you any inspiration?”

“I was looking at this earlier…” T.J leaned forward, tilting his head a little so the words didn’t blur together so much. “I could get something like that—that’d be okay, right?”

“Don’t see why not.” Amber leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know of any bakeries around here that do Kosher-specific stuff, but it’d be pretty easy to buy an alternative, right?”

“How do you know so much terminology?” T.J said, exasperated.

“You pick it up. Cyrus is _always_ at the Spoon.”

“Oh.” He ignored Amber’s blatant hint to him there. “It…” He shrunk into his shoulders a little. “It wouldn’t be weird to _make_ something, would it?”

Amber lifted her head a little, mouth parting. “I…” She cleared her throat. “No, it wouldn’t. That’s actually really sweet of you.”

“ _Don’t.”_

She held her hands up. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Good.” Ignoring the heat blossoming on his cheeks _again,_ T.J began scrolling through the list of recommended foods to take. _Candied nuts, Kosher cakes…_ all seemed to be targeted toward kids. There’d probably be loads of that, and they didn’t have many ingredients to make anything fancy…

…but he _did_ have enough to make one.

"What about this one?" He gestured to the option. “It's called _Challah_ bread?”

Amber looked at the pictures on his screen. “Huh. You know, I think Cyrus told Andi that he likes that.” T.J perked up at that. “Though you’re saying it wrong, Teej. He said more like… _sh-allah?_ I can’t tell you for sure.” She paused, eyes slowly looking at her brother, before diving for the mouse. “ _No_ obsessing over the pronunciation until you’ve got this thing made!”

"I wasn't  _going_ to!" T.J huffed, slipping his phone into his pocket on the coy. 

Amber still shielded him from his computer. "Don't you lie to me, you disaster-bi. I'm just as bad as you."

"Oh, shut up." T.J just curled his lips into a smirk, poking her in the forehead. “You wanna give me a hand?"

She raised a brow.

"...And give me a reason to get you the heck away from my stuff?”

“An excuse to bake and make something other than shitty baby taters?” Amber said, rolling up her sleeves. “Count me in.”

 

* * *

 

“Is it okay to use regular sea salt for this?” Amber looked up the recipe that T.J had pulled up on his phone, grabbing the larger mixing bowl from the cupboard. “It says here to use a special kosher.”

“Apparently the chemical makeup is the same, it’s just the physicality of it.” With all the ingredients already measured out (T.J had done it; Amber checked it over, just to be on the safe side), T.J grabbed the medium-sized bowl and began to dissolve the yeast and sugar in warm water. “According to some of the websites I searched up.”

Amber glanced to the _seven_ tabs on his phone. “Some?”

“Hush.” He covered the medium bowl with a nearby hand towel and went back over to her. “You’re supposed to be helpful.”

Amber held up the larger bowl with the utensils inside. “Swallow those words right now, Kippen. I’m better than your own conscience.”

“Not hard to beat.”

Just to rub it in, T.J smeared flour onto her forehead—and let out a laugh when she spluttered and tried to paw it off. “T.J—dammit, _why_ are you such a—”

 

* * *

 

“So, what I don’t get,” Amber said, kneading all her frustrations onto the dough, “is the constant flip-flopping he does! First it was me, then Andi, then this… Libby girl?” Amber scoffed, flipping the dough over again. “Is it so hard to make up your mind about who to date?”

T.J just hummed nonchalantly, cleaning the side free of any remaining pieces of flour.

“Oil.”

Humming again, T.J poured a little more oil onto the bread so that Amber could carry on kneading. His gaze had drifted to his sister more than once—and he was glad _she’d_ volunteered for that. Seemed like she needed it more than him.

“Seems like you’re setting yourself up for a broken heart again, Amber.” T.J leaned on the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you even bother with this guy?”

“Because _I’m_ the one who screwed up first.” Amber stopped kneading for a minute. “I hurt him.”

“Yeah, you said.” He shrugged, leaning back against the counter. “So, what? Is going back into that relationship going to fix that?”

“I don’t even know, Teej. _Ugh!”_ She dumped the dough down. “ _Boys!”_

“Don’t be sexist. All genders are dumb.”

“True.”

“Also, plenty more fish in the sea.”

Amber snorted. “The local pool of out-girls in our age range isn’t exactly big, Teej. They could all _fit_ in one pool.”

Amber breathed in deeply, before grabbing the dough and kneading it to vent out the frustrations.

 _“Don’t I know it._ ”

 

* * *

 

“So, we just… wait for it to rise for one more hour?”

T.J pulled up a stool for Amber and perched on his own. “Seems like it.”

Amber clicked her tongue. “Then we bake it?”

“Eyup,” T.J made sure to pop the ‘p’, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the counter.

Silence fell on the two for a while.

T.J could hear Amber absent-mindedly spinning on her stool, dragging her feet along the tiled floor. He guessed she was looking outside at the old tree, unfinished treehouse from before their Dad hurting his back and preventing him from finishing. A lot of memories around that old oak. That unfinished business was probably the start of the bitter nettles that encased the house.

He’d only recently learned that it was possible to clear it, even with a few stings along the way.

“Teej?” Amber had put a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Mm?” He mumbled, opening one eye. “What?”

“If you need to go to bed, I can finish this.”

Gently, he batted her hand from him. “No, it’s—it’s fine. I gotta—” Slowly sitting up, T.J rubbed his eyes and blinked hard, willing himself to stay awake. “I’ve got to finish this. Wouldn’t be right if I didn’t do equal amount.”

As he was checking the timer on his phone—squinting hard to _try_ and make sense of the numbers, _begging_ that his brain wasn’t screwing everything up—it soon dawned on him that Amber was staring.

He glanced side-ward. “Do… you need something?”

Amber smiled softly. “He’s really helped you.”

Shoulders tensing, T.J’s eyes widened as he felt a hot blush flood to his cheeks. “I—what are you trying to—”

She put a finger to his lips. “It’s okay,” she said, her smile widening to prove it and taking her hand away. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m not going to tease you.” She reached forward and put her hand on his. “I’m _happy_ for you.”

Despite himself, T.J clasped her hand back, though it did little to stop his cheeks from getting hotter. “I…i-it…” He sighed, ducking his head down. “Caught me by surprise.”

Amber’s other hand went atop his. “The most important things to us are never usually handed to us. You worked for what you two have.” She very lightly tightened her grip. “You’re allowed to treasure that.”

“I do,” he said automatically. “He’s… just.” T.J laughed, shaking his head. “He’s just _Cyrus._ What else can I say?”

Amber grinned. “I bet you could give me a list if you wanted.”

“Well, maybe.” T.J cleared his throat, before ducking his head again. “…You’ve really noticed a change?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hands again. “I have.”

“A good one?” He asked, chancing a look at his sister.

“The best in _years._ ”

 

* * *

 

By the time the bread had come out of the oven, Amber had all-but passed out on the couch in the living room. She lay there, curled up in a cocoon of one of T.J’s hoodies, and he could see her smiling at the scent of the bread that came out.

He was checking the stability of the bread—it seemed decent enough, and though they only had poppy seeds, it looked golden brown as well. T.J checked _every_ single square surface, for any glossed over imperfection… but it seemed legit.

He sat back with a sigh, a content smile resting where pursed lips had once been.

Sunlight had started to appear in the cracks of the blinds, and a distinct chirping made T.J grab the small amount of seeds leftover in the bag and open the back door.

He sat down, gently tossing handfuls around the pathways, and quickly retreated inside, lying in wait, _watching_ …

…and couldn’t help a bright grin when a small robin emerged from the hedgerow, pecking at the offerings he’d made.

T.J’s hand on the door frame dropped back down to his side, and he blinked slowly at the sight around him;

His sister, asleep after helping him out.

The house, silent, their parents out at work.

A small robin pecking at the back garden.

T.J checked his phone, clock set to analogue, before smiling and putting it back in his pocket.

He may not have slept, but Shadyside was waking up at dawn, and he was in the mood to walk right alongside it.

 

* * *

 

_“You…came.”_

_(There’s hope and disbelief in Cyrus’ voice that gives him pause.)_

_“Course I came.”_

_(As if he’d do anything less.)_

* * *

 


End file.
